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Western suburbs taste great

Fabulous crepes, waffles, people

Le Jolie Cafe, 438 Gaffney Street, Pascoe Vale. Phone: 9379 9886

When I get down, disheartened or impatient about where Consider The Sauce is in relation to where I’d like it to be, it serves me well to be reminded that the business side of my blog and what seems like its slow progress in no way diminish the very many glorious riches it has created.

I remind myself of this sometimes.

Sometimes, other people do the reminding.

The riches start with something as obvious and basic as the incredible food we get to try from all over the west and beyond.

But that’s just the beginning.

Because there’s many people involved.

That human side to CTS starts with comments, tips and even just “likes” here on the blog itself and elsewhere on various social media.

Beyond that, there are wonderfully random encounters with grateful readers when we’re out and about and even in places such as Sim’s.

Going a bit deeper, there’s the readers we meet at CTS Feasts and the like – and, yes, it’s been a while since we ran one of those.

Going deeper again, there are people who have come into our lives, going – in the process – from being readers to really adored friends.

Such is the case with Julian and Christine, readers who I met at a certain Sunshine North Latin American eatery a few years back.

Since then, we’ve become as thick as thieves and the meals we’ve shared with them can now be fairly be counted in the countless category.

Well, metaphorically anyway …

Then there are the people who make the food we eat.

In some, many cases, they are not really relevant to our meals or the ensuing stories.

And, as well, there is a certain in-built tension inherent between food producer and food writer – just as there always was between writer and musicians when music was all I wrote about.

But our relationships with some of the food people of the west and beyond have indeed ripened into friendship and something more than professional mutual respect.

That means, of course, that visiting such places and people is about way more fun and laughter and pleasure than what is merely on our plates.

In just that way I take an immediate shine to Kathleen and Guy when I visit, alone, their great joint Le Jolie cafe in Pascoe Vale.

I love their sparkle, humour and willingness to engage.

I love the pride they take in the food they produce and the high-quality ingredients they use to make it.

I love the comfy vibe of their cafe.

And I love the music – the mix of straight-to-my-heart vintage jazz is perfect and at just the right volume.

It’s the heritage of French-born Guy that overwhelmingly colours the food – crepes sweet and savoury, waffles and more – of Le Jolie Cafe.

That long-winded introduction is my way of saying that I was a very happy chappy in taking two of our very good food pals, Christine and Julian, to this Pascoe Vale creperie to try the food of two new pals, Guy and Kathleen.

And, oh my goodness, what a time we have!

From the “cafe classics” part of the menu, Christine goes for the croque monsieur ($14.50).

Described as a “grilled French sandwich layered with ham, seeded mustard and herbed béchamel, topped with melted emmental cheese”, it comes with an egg on top to make it a croque madame for $2.50 extra.

She enjoys it and like so many dishes, it eats bigger than it visually appears.

The toppings and accessories are first-rate and the waffles themselves are both a little bit crunchy and a little bit doughy.

Christine, who knows about such things, proclaims them the best Belgian-style waffles she’s had in Australia.

It’s at this point in our meal – post-sweet crepes – that our gameplan starts to unravel.

First, Guy presents us with a complementary creme brulee.

OMG.

It’s wetter than I’m used to seeing with this dish – it’s almost like a very thick soup.

But there’s no doubting the quality and the flavours.

We’re all grinning the grins of those who know they’re doing something awfully sinful.

Then things get even more nutty when Christine and I approach the bar to pay for what has been a great Sunday lunch.

Guy digs his Gallic-souled heels in and refuses to accept our money.

We give it our best shot, but the glint in his eyes bespeaks a determination that will not be countered.

Short of creating a scene or simply flinging banknotes on our table and rushing for the door, we are at a bit of a loss – so somewhat reluctantly head back to our table.

There, a conversation ensues – should I include what has transpired, money-wise, in my CTS story?

“No way you should put this in your story,” opines one of our group.

“You MUST put it in your story,” firmly says another.

The second friend perhaps knows me better in this regard – there’s no way I cannot, will not mention what has happened.

I’m simply not that sort of blogger.

So there it is …

We’d like to think, we hope, that Kathleen and Guy have been responding to more than the mere knowledge that we’re a food blogger group – that they have appreciated our interest in and enthusiasm for their food.

For us, we are very grateful – not so much for the appreciated gesture of not being allowed to pay, even though we started our visit to Le Jolie Cafe fully expecting to do so.

No, we are more grateful for the quality of what has been presented to us.

This is a long, long overdue comment. Thank you so much for the hard work you put into your blog. I’ve eaten so many fabulous meals based on your posts. I’ve read your blog for years and you’ve introduced me to the gems of the West. I look forward to many more delicious meals.